


Theodora

by Delphii



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Play, Authority Figures, BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/F, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Flogging, Foot Fetish, Light BDSM, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Royalty, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphii/pseuds/Delphii
Summary: Besides, the immutable fact is that Theodora is still the queen, and Yuri her royal guard. The queen gives orders, the guard follows them. Simple.





	1. 1a. Summons

**Author's Note:**

> Divided into chapters to help with specific explicit content descriptions, as well as the fact that I'm too lazy to finish the entire thing before uploading-- check end notes if you're looking to read/avoid a specific act  
> (full disclosure: this is in no way an accurate portrayal of royalty/military roles or relations in real life. I don't know a single thing about any of that, all I know is that this is a fictional queendom with fictional characters who have a lot of fictional sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check end notes for specific warnings!

"You're new to the guard, aren't you?" 

"Yes, your Majesty."

The queen's bare feet make no noise as they pad around Yuri's standing form. "Now where did the captain find a talented young woman like you?"

"I was recommended by a superior officer, ma'am. She said that my skillsets were much more suited to a career as a bodyguard than as a footsoldier. Um, may I ask a question, ma'am?"

"Of course."

Theodora's heavy robe just barely brushes the fabric of Yuri's pants as it whisks by. Yuri stays still for a moment, stance wide with her hands held together loosely behind her back. She hears Theodora puttering around behind her, unsure of whether it's better etiquette to stand exactly as she is or to avoid pointing her back at the queen. She makes a quick decision, turning to face the mahogany tea table upon which the queen is pouring out a glass of wine. 

"Is it normal for new guards to be invited to your quarters?"

Theodora doesn't even look at her. “No. You are an exception."

Yuri doesn't blush; she's a tad too disciplined for that. But she does swallow. "I… don't know how to respond to that. Ma'am."

"An honest guard. Good." Theodora has apparently finished setting up her alcoholic table set. She sets the bottle down and pads across the floor again, coming to a rest in front of Yuri. She clasps her hands demurely in front of her and just barely tilts her head up to peer at Yuri's towering form through thick black lashes. "Take off your shirt."

Yuri blinks. Her outer form is schooled into a rigid statue but her heart is throwing itself wildly against the walls of her ribcage. When she remembers to breathe in, her control crumbles at the corners. She hesitates. Then, with deliberately steady hands, she unbuttons her shirt, top to bottom. It slips off her shoulders with a whisper of cotton against skin. She folds it loosely into a bundle and sets it down by her feet. 

Theodora's expression remains impassive. "Pants. Off."

Maybe it’s the sheer surreality of the situation that punches through Yuri’s defenses, bringing her body into motion before her rational mind has even begun to understand what’s happening. Her hands are deft and methodical as they unbuckle her belt, zip open her fly with a soft, metallic growl that seems to fill the silent room. She extracts her legs from her trousers one by one, then disposes of it the same way she did her shirt. She pauses, unsure of what to do next. So she resumes her earlier position. 

Yuri is wearing practical cotton underwear, black boxers and a sports bra with no patterns or lace. It's more covering than it could be but she still feels vulnerable, standing exposed with her spine straight and her hands clasped behind her back. Her brain is starting to catch up to current events; there’s sweat at her hairline and a cocktail of confusion and doubt popping and fizzing in her stomach. 

Theodora remains totally unreadable. It only takes two blinks for her to sweep her eyes down and up the guardswoman's body, evaluating her for... for what, Yuri doesn't know. The queen shifts, her robe swaying slightly. 

"Open your mouth."

Her heart pounding in her throat, Yuri loosens her jaw. She stops breathing altogether as the queen hooks three fingers over her teeth, and she can taste the queen's—the  _ queen's _ —fingers against her tongue. She nearly gags just out of shock. But then Theodora pushes her fingers even deeper into her guard's mouth, and Yuri has to struggle not to close her lips around them. 

Theodora tugs, forcing Yuri's entire lower jaw towards her. As Yuri follows suit the queen leans up, meeting her open mouth in a wet, hungry kiss. 

Yuri can barely feel the kiss, her head is spinning so much. She registers plump, pillowy lips, the caress of a warm, wet tongue against her own. She starts kissing back, purely out of instinct, want and hunger coiling down her chest and pooling in the pit of her stomach. She unclasps her hands—

—The queen pulls away. Yuri feels as though she's lost her anchor to the earth, the string that kept her from floating away like so many balloons. She stares at the queen, glassy-eyed, ragged breaths catching in her throat. 

Theodora's lips are glistening slightly, her breath coming just a beat quicker. But she regains her composure in an instant, exhaling slowing as she lowers her eyes to Yuri's body. She drags her wet fingernails down the guard's chest, wipes the cold saliva off on the smooth plane between Yuri's collarbone and breasts. All of Yuri's attention rushes to that one point of contact. Theodora's fingers wander lower, tracing the outline of Yuri's abs, her waist, her jutting hipbones.

"You haven't tried to touch me yet," the queen says without lifting her eyes. It's a dry statement of fact. 

Yuri's voice is steady, if a bit small. "You haven't ordered me to, ma'am."

"Honest, obedient... perfect." Theodora traces the lower seam of Yuri's bra with her fingertips, then snaps the elastic against the guard's ribs. The muscles in Yuri's stomach jump. "Take this off." 

Yuri has to struggle to peel the tight sports bra off of herself, and the more time she spends wrestling with the stubborn fabric the more embarrassed she becomes. She manages it somehow and drops the pesky garment onto the floor, just barely missing the neat pile of her shirt and pants. It's no use trying to fix it. She stands up straight again, topless, her small breasts fully exposed and her nipples obviously erect. There's a hot flush in her cheeks.

Theodora doesn't touch this time. She just observes. Then, she commands: "Stay." Yuri obeys, and as the queen disappears behind her again she does her best to calm the roaring of her blood. 

The queen returns with her earlier filled glass of wine. She sips from it, leaving the faintest imprint of her lips against the polished glass. Then she raises it up to Yuri's lips. "Drink." The wine slips down Yuri's throat like liquid gold, the scent of grapes dominating her senses. A drop escapes her mouth; Yuri catches it quickly with a flick of her tongue. Theodora watches. She takes the empty glass back to her tea table. Returns. 

She strips off her robe. It's lined with warm fleece inside, and Yuri thinks she catches the queen shiver almost imperceptibly as its protective thickness leaves her skin. Underneath, Theodora is wearing a negligee made of crimson satin and lace that shimmers against her warm brown skin, patterns of light dancing as she moves. 

"Come." 

She leads Yuri to her lush, enormous bed—it’s so big, it would be ridiculously easy to lose the queen’s diminutive form under all those sheets—and sits at the foot of it, right on the edge. Yuri kneels on the floor before her. Now it's the queen who looms over the guardswoman instead of the other way around. Theodora crosses her legs and lifts a dainty brown foot in Yuri's direction. "Kiss my feet."

Yuri has to bend over to reach, bracing her hands against the carpeted floor. The back of the queen's foot is soft under Yuri's lips. Yuri can feel veins running under the thin skin, fragile veins that could be so easily cut or damaged. Delicate bones, also easily crushed or shattered. Theodora's foot dips under the weight of Yuri's next kiss; the guardswoman raises a hand from the floor for support, but stops with her fingers hovering just centimeters from the queen's sole. Yuri looks up with wide eyes at her queen, questioning. 

There's a hint of amusement in the quirk of Theodora's lips. "You may use your hands."

Yuri slides her hands under the queen's foot, doing her best not to tickle, pressing her thumbs gently into the slight divots near her ankle. Her palms and fingertips are calloused but she hopes the queen doesn't mind. She rubs soothingly up and down the slopes and ridges as her lips mouth silent words down the path to her toes. The queen's feet are ridiculously clean; Yuri supposes it's a full-time job for the maids to keep the floor in the queen's chambers spotless, given her apparent affinity for walking around barefoot.

Yuri wraps her lips around the queen's big toe and sucks. She hears a short, pleased hum above her and redoubles her efforts. As she sucks she massages the queen's foot with her fingers, specifically looking for spots of tense muscle, then pressing in. Theodora sighs deeply at that, and when Yuri peeks up she sees the queen leaning back and briefly closing her eyes, not quite smiling but definitely at ease. The sight makes Yuri’s stomach flutter.

Yuri moves on to the rest of Theodora's toes, sucking them two or three at a time, flicking her tongue out into the gaps between, occasionally glancing up to see if Theodora is enjoying herself. Yuri worships her queen's foot for as long as she can, until Theodora uncrosses her legs, crosses them again the other way, raises her other foot and demands, "This one too." Yuri repeats the process, more boldly this time.

And then Theodora extends her leg further, turning it to one side, letting Yuri’s lips slip up to the inside of her ankle. Yuri gets the message and starts kissing up, charting a slow, wandering path up the inside of Theodora's calf, teasing just a little along the way. Yuri raises a hand to the outside of Theodora's thigh, looking to grip for support—

“Drop the hand.  _ Now _ ."

Yuri's arm falls to the floor like it’s been shot. She looks up and freezes, seeing something dangerous smoldering in Theodora's deep brown eyes.

"If you touch me anywhere above the knees without permission again, I will whip you raw and send you back to the barracks naked and bleeding."

Yuri's head spins at the thought. Her breath catches, warmth rushing between her thighs. She swallows. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

"Good. Continue."

Yuri closes her hands into tight fists and crosses her wrists behind her back before she continues, just in case she slips up again. She alternates between Theodora’s thighs as she gets closer and closer to her core. Theodora is wearing satin panties—of course. Because why would a queen wear anything less than luxurious? Theodora opens her legs, inviting Yuri in. The negligee is barely an obstacle; Yuri nuzzles it out of the way and hazards a soft kiss to the surface of the panties. That close, she picks up the sweet scent of the queen’s arousal, and her mouth waters. Theodora responds to the kiss by tensing up, inhaling a little breath that draws her posture upward, prompting Yuri to do it again. 

“Do you want to taste me?” Theodora breathes.

“Yes, ma’am,” Yuri rasps in return. 

A finger hooks under Yuri’s chin, drawing her up. “Not yet.” 

Theodora rolls her shoulder so that a strap of her dress slips down. Yuri raises herself up on her knees to get it, nipping at the fabric delicately with her teeth, then tugging it down, revealing lovely brown skin an inch at a time, until her lips brush over and past Theodora’s hard nipple. 

“Come here, come here…” Theodora murmurs, sliding her palms along Yuri’s cheeks, cupping her face and bringing her forward. Yuri wraps her lips around Theodora’s nipple and circles it with the tip of her tongue, then sucks. Theodora lets out a long, low groan that vibrates through her chest and across the surface of her skin. Yuri can’t help but whimper too—god, but the queen tastes so  _ good _ —she catches herself almost using her hands again, and crosses them more firmly behind her back. 

Theodora guides Yuri to repeat the undressing process with her other breast. Yuri would be fine with just looking at this sight—the queen, the  _ queen _ , the beautiful queen with both her breasts spilling out of a luxurious negligee, one of her lovely wide nipples already glistening with Yuri’s previous attention. Yuri can hear Theodora’s breaths as she continues her work; the heavy, deep sighs, the minute shifting of the rest of her body, the way she  _ gasps _  when Yuri risks grazing her teeth against the taut bud…

“Good girl,” Theodora pants, “Good girl, you’ve earned it…"

Yuri’s head is so blank with euphoria from the praise that she nearly misses Theodora pushing down on the top of her head. Yuri lowers herself back down, balancing on her heels, leaning forward. Theodora does a bit of wiggling, slipping her panties off just to her thighs, and Yuri takes them down the rest of the way with her teeth. 

Yuri almost can’t look—this is too impossible, and she somehow has this idea that if she looks the dream will fade away and she’ll wake up to the sound of her guard commander barking orders. But Theodora doesn’t give her time to doubt herself, just fists her hands in the guard's hair and shoves her in. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

The salty, musky scent overpowers Yuri, overwhelms her and surrounds her, pierces her mind and clouds her head. There isn’t any room to tease, just slick, soft folds pressed against her nose and mouth and juices already dripping down her chin—muscle memory takes over, and Yuri’s lips and tongue are moving in tandem to collect as much sweetly bitter moisture as possible. She navigates by feel and taste, savoring every second. She doesn’t think, she just licks, sucks, listens to the soft groans coming from above—so good, the queen tastes  _ so good _ —and when the tip of her tongue circles around Theodora’s clit, the queen gasps and tightens her fingers in Yuri’s hair hard enough to hurt. 

“ _ There _ ,” she moans, “Right there, use your lips, don’t stop—" 

Yuri whines in response without meaning to, thighs tightening underneath her as she feels a pulse of wetness soak her own boxers. She licks with a few more quick, insistent strokes, then wraps her wet lips around the queen’s clit and sucks.

“Just like that, good girl, keep going,  _ keep going _ —"

A wordless gasp, and Theodora’s thick thighs clamp around Yuri’s ears with surprising strength. It occurs to Yuri a beat too late that she can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter because the queen’s body is drawn tight as a piano wire and convulsing all around her—pulses of hot liquid arousal coating her entire face, the queen’s hips rolling as she breathlessly moans Yuri’s name— 

The queen keeps Yuri trapped between her thighs even after her orgasm is finished, riding out the last aftershocks on Yuri’s tongue. Yuri’s head is a bit light from the oxygen loss but she dutifully stays where she is, hands now braced on the carpet, inhaling in sips when she can. 

Finally, the queen lets her go. Yuri throws her head back, taking in gulp after gulp of oxygen; her hair is plastered to her flushed, her face is overheated by sweat and cum, and the cold air washing over her forehead and cheeks is a blessing. 

And then the queen’s hands are there, caressing Yuri’s cheeks, wiping some of the moisture off. “Such a lovely pet,” she coos, “So good with your tongue, so good at following orders…"

The praises send a shudder running down Yuri’s spine. Even with her shortness of breath, she manages to stutter out a “Th-thank you, ma’am.” Her toes curl and she shifts ever so slightly on her heels, making the wet patch on her boxers rub over an ankle. The queen's eyes flicker downward; Yuri realizes she’s clenching the carpet in her fists. 

“Guard,” the queen says, tilting her head, her voice low and lilting, “Are you wet?"

Yuri swallows a whimper. Her voice cracks. “Yes, ma’am.”

Something gleams in the queen’s eyes. Her earlier graceful composure is still there, but relegated to the background. The queen looks  _ hungry _ . 

“On your back,” she says. And just to make sure Yuri gets the message, she places her heel firmly on Yuri’s shoulder and shoves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> power play, d/s stuff that's pretty non-violent and based on mostly verbal cues rather than physical force, some foot worship, cunnilingus. Also in the beginning there isn't much discussion of consent, just one person initiating and the other going with it; both parties are willing, rational adults, but there is an existing imbalance of authority between the two that could turn some people off-- the iffiness of that is discussed later though, in Chapter 5/2a


	2. 1b. Showtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> specific content warnings in end notes!

Yuri topples back onto the carpet, losing just a bit of her breath but being otherwise unharmed. Her legs fall open automatically, and even though the dark color of her underwear hides most of her arousal she still feels blood rushing to her face. Theodora leans over the edge of the bed, looming over her, wearing a mischievous smirk that sends a jagged crack running through what remains of Yuri’s willpower. 

She extends a leg, presses the ball of her foot…  _ right _ on the wet spot on Yuri’s boxers. Yuri can’t help the little yelp that escapes her—then a desperate moan as the queen presses against her clit. Yuri doesn’t know what to do with her trembling hands, so she fists them into the carpet and tries not to lose her mind as the queen continues to toy with her, rubbing up and down her wet pussy and occasionally grinding into her clit with her heel. Then, just when Yuri is just about to sob with desperation, Theodora taps the waistband of her boxers with her toe. 

“Off.” 

For a moment, Yuri can’t do anything but lie still and fight to catch her breath. But then there’s the urgent, swelling need to obey, obey, obey, so she hauls herself up into a sitting position to wrestle down her boxer briefs. She folds them quickly and leaves them on the floor nearby, then nervously lowers herself back to her previous position on the floor, her legs automatically drawing together. Theodora easily kicks them apart, fully exposing Yuri to her view. 

Yuri is suddenly lost in a tide of insecurities about her appearance. It’s not like a woman with a full, magnificent bush will judge her for not shaving, but somehow the possibility still occurs to her. And though she knows she showered in the morning before training, now she's all slick and sticky and covered in sweat; she’s been totally unprepared for the risk of such an intimate inspection and, dear lord, she must look like such a mess—her cheeks warm up and she can feel herself shaking, just a bit, her legs starting to ache from the effort of keeping them raised and spread. 

Theodora's lips part and Yuri sees her tongue running over her teeth, predator-like. Yuri's stomach jumps when the queen’s toes land lightly on the skin just below her bellybutton, then trail lazily downward, through Yuri’s wiry hair and then...

The queen leans back on her seat at the edge of the bed, smirking impishly, the wicked gleam in her eyes accentuated by the expensive satin bunched up below her breasts and her ruffled hair. Her eyes are locked on Yuri's. 

"Show me how you touch yourself," she says. "At night when no one’s around, and you can fantasize about whatever… you… want. Go on."

Yuri swallows. She lets the fingers of her right hand trail down her stomach in the same path Theodora’s toes did—then pauses as she remembers her fingers are dry. Her face hot, she brings her middle and ring finger up to her mouth and, staring into the queen's eyes the whole time, slips them into her own mouth, running her tongue over them to coat them in saliva. When she takes them out they're followed by a trail of spit—she wipes it away quickly with her thumb, she doesn't want to look _that_  sloppy in front of the queen—and slips them between her thighs, where her clit is buzzing, aching for contact.

Well. She didn't need her spit after all, because she's wetter now than she's ever been in her life. Running her fingertips up and down her swollen folds is easy, and soon she's spreading the slick wetness up to her clit as she circles around it, traps it between her two fingers and squeezes. Oh, god. Her toes curl, her teeth clamp down on her lower lip, and a little whine escapes her throat. She's sensitive enough that she can't touch her clit directly without seeing stars and just a little bit of pain so she plays with it over the hood, granting herself more muted, rolling bursts of pleasure that she knows won't bring her an orgasm for a while to come. 

Yuri brings her other hand up to one of her tits, rubbing a fingertip over the little nipple. Maybe that reminds Theodora of her own exposed state, because she decides then to busy herself with fixing up her attire, hooking the negligee straps back over onto her shoulders, pulling the bottom hem back down to her thighs, tucking her breasts back into the satin confines. Yuri isn't disappointed at all, really; the queen is just as beautiful clothed as unclothed. The fact that she can now see Theodora's peaked nipples straining through the thin fabric is a definite bonus, and she’s secretly proud of how the queen's hair is still slightly stuck to her neck where she was sweating with the exertion of the orgasm Yuri brought her to earlier. 

"What do you fantasize about, guard?" the queen says as she combs out her hair with her fingers. 

Yuri pauses. "Um, sex?"

The queen's chuckle is music. "A little more specific than that. Who do you imagine when you masturbate?"

"Masturbate" isn't even that dirty as words go, it's kind of clinical actually, but hearing it come from the queen's lips, in the queen's voice, is more than a little disconcerting for Yuri. She fumbles for an answer. "Uh—women? A woman? Just—ones that I, that I, uh—"

The queen's head tilts. "Ever fantasized about me?"

Yuri's eyes pop wide open. " _ No _ !" Theodora raises her eyebrows at the vehemence of her denial. "I mean—no, I haven't, not because I don’t think you’re attractive—you’re very attractive—I just, I don’t feel comfortable thinking about—real people, in that context, at least ones that I’ve never been, um, involved with—ma’am.” The heat radiating from Yuri’s face could power a steamship.

A grin spreads across the queen's face as she laughs again—full teeth, and it's the most dazzling sight Yuri has ever seen. "You're too polite for your own good," she chides. 

Yuri lowers her gaze, eyes darting from side to side. "S-sorry, Your Majesty." Something in the half-compliment, half-reprimand sends a flutter down her stomach, and she finds herself pressing down on the hood of her clit again without realizing.

The queen abruptly stands up. "Keep going, I'll be right back," she says, and walks off.

Yuri isn't really sure what to do other than follow orders. Her confusion at the sudden change is relieved the by the sound of clinking wine glasses and pouring liquid. Of course that's what she's doing. Who knew the queen liked her wine so much? It doesn't take long for her to return, carrying a half-full glass as she circles around Yuri's prone form. Yuri's heart pounds faster as she sees the way the queen studies her from above, seeing her helpless and exposed and open and still panting quietly as she teases her clit. But that doesn't last long, as Theodora is soon sitting back at her seat on the edge of the bed, idly swirling her glass as she watches her evening entertainment. 

Theodora is obviously settling in for a show—how can Yuri deny her? Yuri squeezes her breast a little, rolls her nipple between a thumb and forefinger, then pinches as hard as she can—her entire body tightens at the self-inflicted pain, and she lets out a shuddering sigh of satisfaction, squeezing her thighs together so her hand is trapped between.

The glass stills in the queen's hand. She watches Yuri intently.

Yuri bucks and rolls her hips as she keeps plying at her poor abused nipple, humping her hand at the same time, at a whole new level of desperation than before. But she forces herself to calm down, letting go of her nipple, breathing out the tension in her body, opening her legs again and simply refusing to touch herself for a good three seconds. Then she moves her left hand to her other breast, gently palming it, as she returns her right to her soaked, dripping pussy, slipping and rubbing in between her folds, teasing her own entrance. The queen's eyes are laser-focused on that bit of movement, which unnerves Yuri a little bit, but also turns her on—she even spreads herself open a bit, flushing when she hears the queen's quiet chortle as she obviously sees what Yuri is doing. Soon enough Yuri's clit is demanding attention again, and her fingers wander back upward. She doesn't expect that to interest the queen, but it apparently does. 

"Do you not like penetration?" Theodora asks. She's looking back up into Yuri's face, seeming genuinely curious.

"No, not really." Yuri hesitates, then amends, "Well, not vaginal penetration. Ma'am."

It's almost frightening how quickly the queen catches her meaning; it shows in the way the corner of her lip immediately twitches upward, the sparkle in her eye. "You prefer anal, then."

Yuri's throat has closed up. All she can do is meekly nod, squeezing her thighs together to confirm her arousal at the statement. Theodora smiles and sips her wine. 

"I'll keep that in mind for later. Not tonight, though." 

Later, but not tonight. That means that the queen is planning—other nights, like this. Nights with Yuri naked at her feet, submissive and vulnerable and needy. The thought sends a violent shiver through Yuri's entire body, and then she's whimpering pathetically as she frantically rubs at the slick, swollen bud of her clit, holding onto her tit for dear life. 

The queen watches silently for a little longer, drinking her wine in sips until she runs out. By then Yuri is too far gone to even consider holding back her moans and desperate squirming, but by the way the queen frowns and holds her glass up to the light, the lack of alcohol is obviously a more pressing concern. The queen lets out a noncommittal hum as she stands back up, glass held loosely at her side, and pads around Yuri's body. Yuri squeezes her eyes shut, whimpering, the hand on her breast falling away to her stomach.

The queen places the sole of one foot squarely in the middle of Yuri's chest, against her sternum. Yuri’s eyes fly open as the air is pushed out of her, the pressure a sudden and unrelenting blockade that neatly interrupts her mental spiral. Her hand stills between her thighs. 

"You ask permission to come, or you don't come at all," the queen warns. "Understood?"

Yuri pulls herself together, just enough to respond with a hoarse, "Yes, Your Majesty." 

"Good. Continue." Theodora lifts her foot. 

Yuri does as commanded, her thighs trembling, her breath returned to her but the flavor of her pleasure drastically altered by the show of power. She tries to focus entirely on rebuilding her pleasure, but then Theodora's toes are making their way up Yuri's throat, brushing her chin, then pushing against her lips. Yuri doesn't need instruction this time, she just snakes her tongue out and licks, lavishing attention on the ball of the queen's foot as it's presented to her. 

She pinches her own nipple again, even harder this time, moaning into the sole of Theodora’s foot. She's returning that point where just touching her clit with her fingers isn't enough, and as she frantically kisses and licks and worships the queen's foot she's humping her entire hand again. Theodora regards her from above, so cool and imperious and regal and  _ gorgeous _ that Yuri is hit with the feeling from earlier that this is too unlikely, too unreal to be happening, and in that slightly dissociated state she nearly misses her oncoming orgasm. 

"Please, ma'am, may I come?" she gasps. 

"No." 

The answer is devastating but Yuri obeys without hesitation, yanking her quivering hands off of her own body, breathing hard and shaking at the hollow loss that results, the plummeting sensations. The queen lowers her foot back onto Yuri’s chest, providing both a distraction and a solid, comforting anchor. Once Yuri has cooled down enough, Theodora removes her foot and says, "Again."

Yuri cautiously returns her hands to her skin, jumping a little at the hypersensitivity of her clit. She rubs slowly at first, but moans quietly as she falls easily back into her previous rhythm. The pleasure blossoms again, creeping up her stomach and lighting up her core, a tingling wave that brings her to the edge much quicker than before.

She's barely opened her mouth to ask permission again when the queen shakes her head. 

It's almost painful to stop this time. The buzzing in her entire body takes longer to fade, especially in her chest and the tips of her fingers, and even then Yuri can still feel it, muted but ready to resurge with just the slightest bit of contact. 

"Again."

Yuri bites back a yelp as she touches her clit again and jerks like an electrocuted puppet. She goes back to rubbing in circles over her entrance, praying that she can buy herself at least a little more time before she’s overwhelmed again. But the wishful, needy part of her that’s hoping third time’s the charm is already pulling her fingers back to her clit, banking on nothing but the queen’s mercy and the promise of sweet, blessed release. This time when Theodora puts her foot over Yuri’s mouth she isn’t looking for worship so much as gagging her, muffling her animal-like keening and pitiful whimpering. Then she lowers her foot onto Yuri’s throat, not cutting off her air supply, just… restricting her. Reminding her of her place. 

_ God _ it’s hot.

Yuri is so dizzy she can’t even focus her eyes, she’s so close, all she needs is a half-second more, just one more feather-light touch, just one little push…

“P-please—ma’am—” she chokes out, feeling the pressure on her throat multiply with every syllable, “may I—c-come?’

Theodora’s irises are as dark as the night sky.

“No.”

A hoarse sob tears itself from Yuri’s throat as she wrenches her hands away, hips bucking in thin air, a pang of loss spearing her chest. She twists the carpet in her hands as she clenches her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut, trying and failing to tamp down the roiling frustration with brute force. She starts to arch her back but is stopped by the foot at her throat—she opens her eyes and sees the queen still standing over her, noting her distress without even a hint of mercy in her eyes. 

Yuri gives up. She flops back onto the floor, panting, her heart hammering in her chest and her skin crawling, a wound-up toy soldier with a broken key. She barely reacts when Theodora leaves to put away her wine glass, watches with only her eyes as the queen wanders back to the other side of the room, seemingly in no hurry at all. 

“Get up,” Theodora says with her back to Yuri, opening and reaching into an ornate trunk. 

Yuri briefly considers disobeying. But it seems like such a petty option. She’s been a good pet thus far, it would be silly of her to change her mind just because of a few denied orgasms. Besides, the immutable fact is that Theodora is still the queen, and Yuri her royal guard. The queen gives orders, the guard follows them. Simple. Yuri’s muscles scream as she pulls herself up into a sitting position, grunting a little, rolling her shoulders. She plants her feet on the carpet, one by one, and stands.

An object flies toward her from Theodora’s corner of the room. She catches it purely by instinct and feels a solid weight, a tangle of black leather. It takes a moment for her to realize she’s holding a strap-on harness, one with a thick purple dildo already fitted in. 

“You didn’t think we were finished, did you?” Theodora says as she comes to stand in front of the guard. Yuri stares dumbly at the toy in her hands, then up at the queen. “What are you waiting for? Put it on.” 

It’s the sports bra all over again. Yuri manages to get one leg through the straps, but then somehow nearly trips while doing the other. As she hops lamely on one foot to keep her balance, she manages to pinch the skin on her thumb with a buckle and ends up cursing out loud—she bites her tongue instantly, glancing hurriedly at the queen for a disapproving reaction. But Theodora just stands there, cool and calm, observing the clown show with her arms crossed and the barest hint of an amused smirk gracing her lips. Yuri ducks her head back down and focuses, and eventually she gets the harness up around her hips, jockstraps snug against the firm curve of her ass and the base of the heavy purple dildo resting on her pubic mound.

Theodora finally uncrosses her arms and reaches for the harness, checking the buckles, fixing a twisted strap against Yuri’s right hip, tugging here and there to check the fit. Yuri holds her arms out to her sides and stares straight ahead, over the top of Theodora’s head, somehow utterly embarrassed by the attention of a woman who was examining her naked cunt just minutes ago. The brief brushes of the queen’s fingers against her hips, thighs, and ass are incredibly distracting; it’s a palpable relief when Theodora hums her satisfaction and steps back, tilting her head to regard her handiwork. 

And then she pulls her negligee over her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Masturbation, voyeurism of said masturbation, orgasm denial


	3. 1c. Strap-on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the chapter pretty much sums it up-- for more specifics, check end notes

There’s barely enough time for Yuri’s jaw to drop before Theodora is wrapping her arms around the guard and yanking her down, crushing their lips together. Yuri’s eyes snap shut and her hands immediately go to the queen’s waist—too late she realizes her mistake and tries to pull away, but she’s stopped by a pair of warm hands wrapping around her wrists like steel manacles. Theodora’s skin is soft, so soft, her waist just plump enough that Yuri can feel her fingers sinking in. That fact alone is almost enough to knock Yuri senseless, but now Theodora is nipping sharply at her bottom lip, eliciting an acute sting and a welling of coppery blood. 

With that pain comes focus, awareness, and then Yuri forgets her hands altogether in favor of losing herself in the taste of Theodora’s lips, the way they’re devouring her own, mirroring their movements to give as good as she’s getting. She groans as Theodora sucks at the wound at her lip, responds with a brush of her tongue against the queen’s own. A moan of approval; Yuri risks tightening her hands around Theodora’s waist, feeling the silicone cock strapped to her hips jut up between them. 

There’s a tacit, yet obvious sense that the rules have changed. Yuri didn’t exactly know what the rules were in the first place, but this seems like a good time to find out. 

Theodora breaks the kiss by force, taking hold of the hair at the nape of Yuri’s neck and jerking hard. Yuri sees the queen’s face,  _ really _ sees it. The hunger is back—Yuri realizes with a start that the glimpse she got before was barely even a glimpse, and all that demure, elegant composure from the beginning of the night was a deliberate, disposable mask;  _ this _ is the face the queen always intended her to see. A relaxed openness in her half-lidded, dark eyes, raw, unapologetic desire in the soft breath escaping her parted lips, a natural fluidity in the way she ever-so-slightly cocks her head to one side, challenging her opponent. 

Theodora still has one hand on Yuri’s wrist. She uses it to guide her, drawing her hand up to cup one of her heavy breasts. Theodora  _ mmm _ s as she fondles herself with Yuri’s hand. 

“You want to be a good pet?” she says, voice low and throaty, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Yuri’s throat is parched. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Theodora leans forward and up, pushing her naked chest into Yuri’s and trapping Yuri’s hand in between them. She rolls her hips against Yuri’s cock and nuzzles against the guard’s cheek, lips right next to her ear. 

“Then  _ fuck _ me.”

All of Yuri’s pent-up frustration and arousal comes surging up like a tsunami, and then she’s not sure if she’s throwing Theodora onto the bed or if the queen is dragging her down with her. The two women land in a tangled heap, Yuri’s tall, muscled form dwarfing the queen’s easily. Almost immediately Theodora has Yuri in her grip, keeping her trapped with her ear next to her mouth as she breathes, “Touch me, make me feel good,  _ fuck _ me—” Yuri can only blindly comply, hands running up the sides of Theodora’s ribs to grope and squeeze the queen’s breasts, then her waist, god she has such a nice waist to hold—but Theodora is whispering in her ear, “Don’t wait, don’t wait don’t wait,” so Yuri reaches down further, slips her hand down through the queen’s muff, then cups between her thighs. She’s wet, and warm, and it’s the easiest thing for Yuri to slip in a finger. 

Theodora growls and  _ bites _ down on the juncture of Yuri’s shoulder and neck—dear lord, why are her teeth so sharp? As Yuri convulses in surprise the queen reaches down for her hand and nearly forces another finger in, clamping down on them, she’s so tight and hot and soft as velvet inside… and when Yuri curls her fingers to hit that sweet spot she knows is there, Theodora arches back and moans so loudly that Yuri has to do it again, and again and again until Theodora thumps a closed fist against the guard’s back and hisses, voice shaking just a bit, “I strapped that cock to your hips for a reason,  _ use it _ .” Yuri lines herself up, and pushes in. 

It’s  _ thick _ . Theodora is obviously no blushing virgin, she takes the whole length in one thrust like a champ. She throws her head back, groaning, her grip on Yuri’s shoulders tightening hard enough to bruise. It takes Yuri a moment to get her hips in order, pulling back just a few inches, before bucking forward again; Theodora’s fingernails turn to claws, dragging down Yuri’s back. Yuri shudders at the unexpected pain, mumbling something akin to a prayer as she braces her forearms on the mattress and steadily builds a rhythm.

Almost immediately Theodora’s hands are on Yuri’s ass, squeezing her cheeks in twin iron grips. Yuri jumps, yelps, and speeds up without meaning to. 

“You can do better than that, guard,” Theodora scolds, and squeezes harder. 

Damn her, Yuri is trying to follow the queen’s orders as best as she can but the hands on her ass are so distracting, especially because Theodora is pulling her cheeks apart, running a finger down from the base of her spine into the cleft between them, and Yuri abandons any attempt to control herself, just  _ slams _ forward as hard as she can. She hears the queen cry out and keeps going, feeling the enormous mattress bounce along with her movements. 

“ _ Perfect _ ,” Theodora gasps, “Keep going, keep going—fuck, don’t stop, just like that—” Her nails are leaving pink trails down Yuri’s back again, her legs wrapping securely around Yuri’s hips so she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. “Mmmm, fuck,  _ yes _ —” Theodora giggles, almost deliriously. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurs to Yuri that the queen could quite possibly be slightly drunk. “Good pet, mmmm, such a good pet, make me come on your cock—”

There’s no hope for Yuri; Theodora has utterly, utterly ruined her. She buries a choked whine in Theodora’s hair as she snaps her hips forward at a more frantic pace, drowning her conscious mind in the queen’s body, the scent of her skin and sweat, the sounds tumbling from her lips. All that matters is Theodora’s pleasure, her approval. 

Dimly, she realizes why Theodora gave her the harness; it forces Yuri into the role of a rutting animal, grunting with the effort of using her entire body instead of just her hands. The control she loses Theodora gains, and though she’s on top Yuri can clearly feel the bite of Theodora’s expensive silken reins constricting her will. She knows no matter how much she makes the queen writhe and moan, Theodora will always, always be in control. 

That understanding is… comforting.

Theodora is getting close, Yuri can tell by the way her body is shaking and tensing beneath her; she pushes into the space between the queen’s shoulder and neck, presses her lips and tongue against the soft, delicate flesh where she can feel a fluttering pulse—finds that perfect angle of her hips where she can grind against Theodora’s clit with every thrust—

The queen goes rigid, every one of her muscles locking under and around Yuri. For a few seconds, Yuri can’t even hear her breathe. And then a long, ragged moan, followed by the queen throwing her head back violently enough to  _ thump _ the mattress, crushing their bodies together so tightly that Yuri’s a little afraid of smothering her. Yuri rocks her hips, keeping pressure on Theodora’s clit, and the queen rewards her with a series of breathy, appreciative murmurs and her nails sinking into the thick skin between the guard’s shoulder blades. 

“ _ More _ ,” Theodora breathes, so Yuri keeps doing what she’s been doing, grinding into the queen, her entire body rolling like a wave on a beach. The harness must have slipped somewhere along the way, because suddenly Yuri can feel the base of the cock flush against her own clit too. It feels lovely but it’s also distracting, and she doesn’t think she’ll come from it but what if she does? Then she has to tell the queen, doesn’t she? For—for permission? She tries to keep her focus on Theodora but her hips keep stuttering, and the little bursts of pleasure wiggling up her stomach aren’t helping at all—but it doesn’t matter now because the queen is coming again, thank god. 

This orgasm isn’t quite as dramatic and show-stopping as the last. This time Theodora tenses for a shorter period, then writhes slowly, blissfully, as she rides out the rest of the climax. Scratching nails are replaced with loving, gentle strokes down Yuri’s damaged skin. Toes curl leisurely at the small of her back. And then there’s a quiet, musical sigh as the queen unspools beneath her guard, making both women sink about a half-inch into the sheets. 

Yuri is, frankly, a little surprised. She would have thought the queen would demand more than two orgasms before declaring her satisfaction with such finality. She tentatively rolls her hips again; the queen responds with a huff of displeasure, untangling her legs from around the guard and shoving her off to one side. 

Yuri lands on her back, and only then does she realize just how fucking  _ exhausted _ she is. She stares up at the small chandelier on the ceiling, her abs protesting their overuse, and tries to recount, step by step, how exactly she got into this situation. All the while the purple dildo is still sticking straight up between her thighs, glistening obscenely with the queen’s cum. 

Yuri hears a bright, wild laugh from beside her. She turns her head to see Theodora pushing wet strands of hair back from her face as she sits up, her carefree, post-orgasm grin returned. The queen scoots forward to tap a finger against Yuri’s thigh, then starts climbing over it; Yuri gets the message and spreads her legs, letting Theodora settle into the space between on her stomach. 

Theodora wraps one hand around the base of Yuri’s cock and tilts her head, regarding the guardswoman with half-lidded eyes and an easy smirk. She doesn’t say anything, just pushes down on the base of the cock so that Yuri can feel the deliberate pressure against her clit. Yuri starts and sucks in a breath, the muscles of her inner thighs tightening just slightly. 

“ Did you enjoy tonight , guard?” Theodora asks, maintaining the weight on Yuri’s clit. Yuri shudders and tries to focus her eyes. 

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

“Really? I didn’t let you come even once.”

The reminder is accompanied by a particularly cruel twist of her hand, and Yuri fails to contain the keening, animalistic whine that bubbles up from her throat. 

Theodora leans forward and drags her tongue up the length of the fat silicone cock. For a second, Yuri can’t breathe. Then her heart is rabbit-thumping in her chest, and it’s all she can do not to break down into a twitching, groaning mess of frustrated hormones. She’s exhausted, she doesn’t know if she can handle another minute of the kind of physical and emotional distress the queen inflicts on her, but when the near-sickening flutters in her chest and stomach start to fade she can’t help but desperately clutch at them. She needs, she needs, she  _ needs—  _

The queen licks her lips, then wraps them around the head of the cock and sinks down. Either Yuri’s overactive imagination or Theodora’s subtle manipulations send the friction straight down to her clit, and Yuri chokes on her breath as she tries not to convulse. As Theodora bobs her head up and down Yuri can do nothing but watch, trembling, mouth open and breath escaping in low whimpers. 

The queen looks up, locking eyes with Yuri, as she slowly pulls up and off the cock with a quiet, wet  _ pop! _ “Would you like to come, guard?” she lilts. 

Yuri doesn’t even stop to consider that this could be a trick, a lead-in to another sadistic edging game. Even if it were, her answer would be the same. “ _ Yes,  _ Your Majesty.” 

“Then let’s get this off.” 

With Theodora’s help it’s much easier to discard the strap-on than it was to put it on, even with Yuri’s sweat-slicked thighs and fumbling fingers. Once the dildo and harness are deposited over the side of the bed and out of sight, Yuri begins to lower herself back down onto her elbows— but the queen shakes her head. 

“Move, darling, that’s my position.” 

Yuri blinks in confusion but follows orders anyway, crawling to the side to let the queen recline against the pillows. “I—I don’t understand, ma’am, then where should I…?”

Theodora smirks, wiggling lazily as she stretches her arms up above herself in a spectacularly cat-like fashion. Leaving one arm tossed leisurely over the pillows, she beckons with a single, crooked finger. 

“You, lucky puppy, get to sit on my face.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaginal sex with a strap-on, (short) blowjob with strap-on


	4. 1d. Slipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (specific content warnings at end of chapter)  
> Happy Valentine's Day!! <3

Almost instantly, the roar of rushing blood in Yuri’s ears blocks out all sound. As she stares dumbly at the queen, Theodora pats the fluffy pillow beside her head.

“Well? Are you going to keep me waiting?”

The admonishment jolts Yuri into action. “No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” She crawls over to the queen on all fours, then gets up on her knees and fumbles a bit. Theodora directs her to face the wall and swing a leg over her head.

“Hold onto the headboard, you’re going to need it.”

Immediately, Yuri’s grip on the polished wood turns her knuckles white. She’s still hovering uncertainly above Theodora, stopped by some innate sense that, well, you don’t just _sit_ _on the queen’s face_ , isn’t that some kind of—some kind of political sacrilege or something? She feels awkward and out of tune in this position, she has the physical upper hand and no idea what to do with it—until Theodora lands a nasty, open-palmed _SMACK_ on one side of her ass.

“Down, guard. Or are you really suggesting I do everything myself?”

“N-no, ma’am.” The stinging handprint and rebuke bring palpable relief; Yuri can still rely on her queen to guide her. Her only responsibility is to do as she’s told, and she’s grateful for the mercy.

Yuri lowers herself cautiously, trying not to overthink things, until Theodora raises her head to lick her exposed slit from bottom to top. Yuri gasps as her whole body jerks upward—so warm, so wet, felt _so_ _good_ — and it’s all she can do not to grind down and beg for more, _more_ , the comfort and the thrill and the full, loving pleasure.

Theodora locks eyes with the guard as she hooks an arm around her thigh and tugs her down. Yuri still can’t let herself bear down with her whole weight, but when she feels the queen’s lips brush her swollen labia she whines through her clenched teeth. Theodora capitalizes on that, teasing at the edges of Yuri’s vulva with the very tip of her tongue, tracing patterns that circle wide around her clit and tickle her entrance. Yuri feels a rush of warm wetness drip out of her and onto the queen’s tongue—she flushes crimson at the feeling, even more so when Theodora seals her lips around the source and sucks noisily.

Yuri’s breaths are coming in hard pants now, and her abs clench and ripple with the effort to stay upright. Theodora’s hand curled around her thigh moves up to encase her waist while the other rests flat on the guard’s stomach, fingertips dipping every time Yuri tenses and her muscles come into definition against her tan golden skin.

As the queen’s tongue slides briefly up between her folds, Yuri bites her lip and feels a slight echo of pain from where Theodora split the skin earlier. Theodora keeps up the tantalizing, fleeting touches, her nose just barely brushing against Yuri’s clit— Yuri moans and bites harder on the scab until it breaks, feeling the slightest trickle of blood result. The hand playing with Yuri’s abs wanders upward to grope her breast. Yuri leans into the contact—then yelps as Theodora squeezes and tugs downward, giving the guard no choice but to drop fully onto the queen’s face.

Immediately she’s encased by the hot, wet warmth of Theodora’s mouth, her plump, soft lips…Yuri forgets herself, dropping her shoulders with a breathy moan and rocking her hips. The queen chuckles at that—Yuri can feel the vibrations clearly against her—and she releases Yuri’s breast to rub a teasing finger over her nipple. She rolls the taut little bud between a thumb and index finger, then mimics Yuri’s earlier self-treatment by pinching hard; the guard cries out, convulsing, feeling another pulse of hot wetness spill from her to coat Theodora’s lips.

Yuri’s clit is throbbing, literally aching for contact, but Theodora refuses to touch it. She circles around it with her tongue. Sucks the labia to the side with her lips. Even blows a warm puff of air at the sensitive, raw bundle of nerves. But she never, ever provides Yuri the relief she really needs. It would be easier than breathing for Yuri to beg, to plead and whine and offer every filthy sexual favor in the world, just for this one kindness—but she restrains herself. More than she wants to come she wants to be patient, to wait and be a good girl and trust that eventually, eventually, the queen will reward her. 

And if she doesn’t, well, maybe she’s into that too. 

Theodora’s hand shifts, tapping Yuri’s sternum in a clear call for attention. Yuri looks down to see Theodora staring back purposefully, hooking one thumb under her thigh pushing as a clear indication to raise her hips. Yuri does so—Theodora releasing her labia with one last, playful nibble—and she sees Theodora lick her lips, her dark eyes drawing downward to examine between the guard’s thighs.

Yuri flushes again when she sees the slick wetness on and around Theodora’s lips. She’d thought she’d been doing a good job of not humping the queen’s face like a bitch in heat, but apparently she was wrong. Somehow, Theodora doesn’t seem the least bit less regal in her mussed up state. She draws a hand up between Yuri’s thighs, gently brushing her folds with her thumb, gathering wetness as she moves along. Her fingertip just barely grazes the hood of Yuri’s clit, then moves down to massage her entrance. Yuri shudders, a little concerned that the queen is going to penetrate her even though she already said she didn’t enjoy that— and maybe it’s a bit fucked up, but a quiet, shadowed part of her mind kind of likes that idea, of the queen intentionally overstepping her boundaries.

And then the slippery pad of Theodora’s thumb nudges against Yuri’s tight, puckered asshole. Yuri stiffens immediately, eyes snapping wide open, heart  _ thumpthumpthump _ ing in her chest.

“It’s okay,” the queen murmurs, “it’s alright.”

_ It’s alright. _

“Relax, guard. Do it for me.”

_ Do it for the queen. _

Yuri gulps in a few deep, ragged breaths. Then on the last exhale, she lowers her forehead onto the headboard and lets the tension in her muscles melt away along a straight path down her spine. She yields with every inch in her body, just so that Theodora’s thumb can gently, insistently push past the tight ring of muscle and into her ass.

“ _ Good  _ girl…”

What little breath Yuri has left escapes her throat in a low, wanton groan. She slumps onto the headboard, inadvertently sinking further down onto Theodora’s thumb, and her eyelids flutter shut at the sweet friction. She feels the queen’s tongue slipping through her folds and clenches, just a bit— the resistance multiplies, and her thighs quiver.

Every stroke of Theodora’s tongue, every touch of her lips, every twist of her finger, and Yuri finds herself slipping further and further into warm, blank surrender. It thrums across her skin, laces every hushed whimper that spills from her lips, envelopes her, amplifies each sensation. Her mind floats and her body unravels, yet somehow she feels more present and real in this moment than in any other. 

All because of the queen. 

All because of Theodora.

Theodora palms Yuri’s buttock and uses the support to adjust the angle of her hips, coaxing the dazed guard to bring her pelvis forward. She presses her tongue against the hood of her clit— Yuri’s back arches, her eyes roll back, and her hips stutter. Theodora laps persistently at the little bud until Yuri’s entire body is vibrating, whimper after whimper tumbling from her lips, trying to maintain her precarious balance while fucking herself on the queen’s finger and tongue at the same time.

Finally, the electric pleasure creeping up between Yuri’s thighs and up her stomach reaches a breaking point—then spills all throughout the rest of her body. Yuri cries out softly, nearly toppling over to one side before clinging to the headboard with everything she has. The extra penetration transforms her orgasm into something more fulfilling and all-encompassing, lighting her up from the inside out with a warm, flushed glow. Her conscious thoughts are stolen away, and all she knows is a dizzying, blissful euphoria. 

It’s so  _ nice _ .  

…It takes nearly half a minute for the initial high to wane. As Yuri returns to the waking world, Theodora is pressing the flat of her tongue against her vulva and entrance, gently massaging while her thumb works slowly, so slowly, in and out of her ass. The pleasure wards off Yuri’s exhaustion for a little longer, buoying her up in intervals to keep her from crashing too abruptly. But the ecstasy inevitably fades and Yuri goes limp, just barely managing to stay upright against the headboard.

Theodora fucks her ass for a bit longer, just until the lack of proper lube starts becoming an issue. She keeps a gentle suction on the guard’s clit as she pulls her thumb out, sending Yuri into another hopeless mental spiral before the sudden, noticeable emptiness tows her back to reality. Her whole body feels like a sack of bricks. It takes all her effort to roll off the queen and onto the side of the bed, where she slides down onto her back, glassy-eyed and panting.

The queen settles down beside her, obviously in much more chipper shape. She wipes Yuri’s cum off her own face with the back of her hand and languidly licks it clean. Like a panther finished with her dinner. 

“You are dismissed, guard,” she says, not bothering to look up at Yuri.

Yuri stares at her.

“You don’t have to leave immediately, of course. You may stay and catch your breath for a few moments longer. But your captain will be upset if you aren’t back in the barracks by morning, and I am at a limited capability to explain your absence.”

She’s back to stating simple, rational facts. The queen is still entirely naked and lounging casually in her plush, gorgeous bed, yet Yuri can feel the steel gate of professionalism once again lowering between them. She feels a little cold inside. Maybe a bit more crestfallen than is necessarily appropriate. But Theodora is still the queen, and Yuri just her royal guard. There’s no other way this can end.

Yuri sits up, nods politely at the queen, and scoots off the edge of the mattress. The floor briefly wobbles, but it levels out as she steps over to her scattered piles of clothing. She dresses herself. Before she knows it she’s standing in her shirt and pants, a bit disheveled but decent.

Her shoes are by the doorway, where she was instructed to leave them when she initially entered the queen’s quarters. To think that must have been—what—two, three hours ago? She feels like a completely different person. As she reaches for the doorknob, Theodora calls out to her.

“Guard?”

Yuri stops. Twists around. The queen hasn’t bothered to dress or budge from her position on the bed, and from the direction of her gaze it’s obvious she’s just been perusing Yuri’s trouser-clad backside. She tilts her head and openly appreciates the sight for a moment longer, then meets Yuri’s eyes.

“Come back Wednesday night. Same time.”

Yuri’s lips part, but no breath comes in or out. Wednesday night: three nights from now. Does she have any other commitments then? No, nothing.

“…Yes, Your Majesty.” 

And then Yuri doesn’t know what to do. So she turns to fully face the queen and bows low, spine and legs perfectly straight, movements precise and economical. Then she opens the door and exits, leaving the queen alone in her quarters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Face-sitting, a bit of anal fingering, nothing /too/adventurous...  
> Now that this "episode" is finished, I may or may not continue this story in a more traditional novelish format? I might just write the naughty bits and put them all together into a series... rest assured, I've got a /lot/ more fun planned out for these two ;)


	5. 2a. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex, just talking about sex... a clearing-up of boundaries and consent and whatnot

Yuri raps the heavy mahogany door with her knuckles, then stands in front of it, waiting.

"Enter," comes the faint call from inside.

Yuri opens the door. The queen is sitting at her little round tea table, in her heavy robe again, stirring a little silver spoon in a teacup. She purses her lips and blows into it; faint, gray wisps of steam swirl away through the air. "Take off your shoes and come sit down, guard."

Yuri stops to wiggle out of her shoes, then pads across the carpet to the table. A plush armchair is waiting for her, as well as a filled cup of tea. She sits down and looks down at the cup, then up at the queen, then at the cup again. Dark eyes flicker at her.

"Yes, it's for you. Drink."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Yuri murmurs, bobbing her head. The tea is hot, just shy of scalding. It smells lovely. As Yuri sips, Theodora puts down her own cup and speaks.

"Did you enjoy fucking me, guard?"

Yuri spits up the liquid in her mouth and nearly drops the cup. She puts it down as gently as she can, covering her mouth as she hacks up a droplet that managed to slip down her windpipe. When she looks up with her eyes watering, the queen is watching with seemingly infinite patience.

"I—uh—" Yuri swallows thickly, wiping a bit of spit from her lip. "...Yes. Yes, I-I enjoyed it. Your Majesty." She has to look down after that, her cheeks growing crimson.

The queen chuckles, leaning back in her chair with her cup. "Would you be opposed to doing it again?"

"Again? Um—right now, ma'am?" She has a sudden vision of the queen sunken back in her oversized chair, her robe and legs thrown open and Yuri herself kneeling between them, Theodora's small hands fisted in her hair and her dripping moans and the taste of her—

"Hmm, not now, maybe later. We could make it a regular occurrence. A habit of sorts."

_It would be an addictive habit_ , Yuri thinks. She feels the lump in her throat and the hammering of her heartbeat and doesn't trust herself to respond.

"You don't have to answer or make a commitment right now. Besides, even if you did, we would have to discuss it some more before actually implementing any kind of schedule."

The way Theodora talks about this, it's so—mundane. As though they were discussing security arrangements for the next palace banquet. Yuri swallows the excess saliva flooding her mouth and tries to speak civilly. "Ma'am, if I agreed to this... how would it work?"

"We would set up a regular schedule, perhaps one or two days a week. You would come here. Some days might be intense. Some might not be demanding at all. It would depend on both of our immediate conditions."

_Come on, Yuri, get it together. Find your bearings, be professional, ask another question._ "Have you done this with others, ma'am?" _No not that question!_

"Yes, I have." Her measured, level gaze bores into Yuri. "Does that bother you?"

_Does it?_ "...No, ma'am. It's... a relief, actually. If I was the first, I don't think I'd be comfortable trusting you with this. No offense, ma'am."

"No offense taken. It's a rational approach."

"What kind of rules would there be?"

"From here on out, we discuss everything, make sure there is clear consent before you or I do anything to each other. I apologize for the other night, I sprung everything on you a bit suddenly. Well... that's an understatement." The queen frowns and glances away, lowering her cup. "I should have communicated my intentions to you well before acting them out. Normally, I do. And I should have given you the clear chance to opt in or back out— _especially_ since you are contractually obligated to take my orders. But I didn't. I shouldn't have blurred that line, and I’m deeply sorry. It _won’t_ happen again." Yuri can’t for the life of her understand how the queen can be so vulnerable yet eloquent at the same time. It seems like a superhuman trait. Or perhaps it’s just training.

Theodora faces Yuri directly again, the uncertainty in her eyes replaced with solid steel. "That is why I need to tell you, right now: whatever private relations you and I have, even this very discussion, begin at that threshold—" she puts her teacup down to gesture at the heavy wooden doors—"and end at this wall." She points toward the wall opposite the door, where a heavily curtained window shuts out the evening sky. "Anything in this room stays in this room, including all knowledge of our activities."

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," Yuri mumbles to herself.

The queen tilts her head. "Yes. Exactly." Yuri can't tell if she's joking or not. "This also means that certain things stay out of this room, such as your professional contract as a member of my royal guard. In here, you are not bound by law to serve and obey, or even to stay—you may walk out at any time, and I will not stop you. I may _ask_ you to stay, but I cannot reinforce that request with any legal or contractual ramifications."

"So this changes nothing about my job or professional conduct, ma'am?"

"Exactly. From what I know of you, I highly doubt you're in this for a promotion." The queen leans back in her chair and steeples her fingers, eyes narrowing slightly. "...but if you are, you need to leave. Right now. Because I won't give you any special treatment as an employee of the state. I propositioned you because I wanted you as a sexually submissive play partner, and I hoped you would accept me as your domme. That is the full extent of the offer, nothing more and nothing less."

Yuri leans back too. "I just have a couple more questions, ma'am."

"Good. Ask them."

"Ma'am, I know you said I wouldn't be legally bound to obey you in the bedroom, but what about outside? What keeps me from pulling a Monica Lewinsky and outing you to the press? Is there an NDA, or…?"

The queen waves her hand dismissively. "No, there isn't. I don't fancy my lawyers knowing the intimate truths of my sex life. Besides, if you were to make a mess, I have alternate methods of cleaning it up."

Yuri's face screws up.

"No, that was not a threat. But it can be, if you make threats necessary. I trust you won't force my hand.” There it is again, that soul-piercing stare. “...Will you, guard?"

Yuri staunchly shakes her head. "No, ma'am. Absolutely not."

"Good."

Yuri knows that wasn't meant to be an erotic moment, but _damn_ , the queen is hot when she's scary. She picks up her tea again. "So, now I know what would happen if I broke your trust. But what about vice versa? If there's nothing on paper, what stops you from violating my boundaries and getting away scot-free, ma'am?"

The icy-hot smile that spreads across the queen's face is startling, almost enough to make Yuri drop her cup. " _Clever_ girl," she says. Yuri decides that if she creams her pants, she'll spill the tea over herself to make it less obvious.

The queen crosses her legs slowly and rests both hands on her armrests, as though sitting on a throne. "I won't deny that this is a difficult balance of power. I have more of it, obviously. But I'm not untouchable. In the years between my parents' death and my coronation, the crown lost much of its true influence over politics; only Parliament can write laws now. But the people trust me. They listen to me. And the Parliament needs the vote of the people, therefore they need me. But you know how quickly public opinion can change, especially for an unmarried woman involved in a sex scandal."

Yuri nods, sipping her tea. The queen's eyes wander up to the ceiling.

"I suppose what I'm saying is, you and I are capable of betraying each other in uniquely devastating ways. I want this relationship to be built on trust, but since I've taken steps to protect myself, I wouldn't blame you for doing the same. Maybe you really should take a page from Lewinsky's book, take home a cumstained shirt or two."

Yuri spits tea all over her pants.

When the guard stops cursing and slapping at her thighs and looks up, Theodora has her head turned slightly away and a knuckle between her teeth, muffling her laughter. For a second, Yuri could believe that she's twenty-one again, sitting in a dive bar and embarrassing herself in front of a pretty stranger in a short dress.

Yuri turns to the side, coughs, and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. "Sorry, ma'am," she chokes out.

The queen gives a little _hrrmph_ herself, but her smile and the sparkle in her eyes remain. "So," she says, "Do you have any more questions?"

"No , ma'am."

"Alright then, you can make a decision now or put it off a few days longer, I know it's a lot to think abou—"

"I'll do it, ma'am."

Yuri doesn't know who's more surprised at the interruption, the queen or herself. They both just sit and blink at each other for a moment. And then a pearly white grin stretches across the queen's face.

" _Lovely_."

Yuri doesn't regret her choice one bit.

The queen picks up the teapot and starts refilling both her and Yuri's empty cups. "Now it's my turn to ask the questions. I've been wondering since Sunday, have you been a submissive in a long-term relationship before? You seemed comfortable falling into the role."

"Yes, ma'am. Twice."

"So you know what your limits are? Hard, soft?"

"I really don't fancy being pissed or shat or vomited on, ma'am."

The pot rattles in the queen's hands as she laughs. "Don't worry, those activities aren't my cup of tea either." She looks down at her tea. Frowns. "Hmm. That was a bit cornier than I'm used to. Your first order as a sub: forget I ever said that."

Yuri bobs her head in courteous agreement. "Right away, ma'am."

"Soft limits?"

"I usually just ask not to be bled, ma'am—needles, knives, etcetera. I can take it, and I don't necessarily hate it, but it's a little too similar to my day job."

The queen shrugs amiably, putting down the teapot. "I can't mark you too much anyway, because that would compromise the secrecy of this relationship. But I'm sure the occasional bruise could go unnoticed, given the nature of your work. Speaking of bruises, am I correct in that you are a masochist who enjoys corporal punishment?"

"Yes, ma'am. I can take a solid beating."

"And you enjoy anal penetration, but not vaginal. Was there anything else specific from Sunday that you did or didn't enjoy?"

Yuri's throat goes dry as she delves into that particular pool of memories. "Well... the masturbation, and you watching, that gets me a bit more self-conscious than I'd like to be, ma'am. Body worship, service topping—that's good, I like that, I'm good at that."

The corner of Theodora's lip turns up in a lopsided smirk. "Yes. Yes you are."

Dammit, Yuri had been doing so well not blushing in front of the queen today—she raises a hand under her nose as though she could wipe the red off her face like paint, flounders for a second, then quickly picks up her teacup and saucer. "And, um, humiliation. It's nice in small doses, I can take a slap or two, and the occasional scolding is fun. But my second domme was very into verbal abuse, and after a while of that I just... don't think I can handle it anymore. I'd much rather be praised—if that's not asking too much, ma'am."

The queen's eyes are warm. "Don't worry, guard. It's not."

Yuri looks down and away, nodding absentmindedly. "Good, that's good. Um, I mean—thank you, ma'am." A thought occurs to her, and she lights up. "Oh, and I can definitely do the foot fetish thing. I don't really get off on it myself, but I like that you like it."

The queen’s poker face slips and returns as quickly as a flapping curtain. "You noticed that, did you? What am I saying, of course you did. And before you ask, no, I don't walk in my quarters barefoot for constant sexual gratification, it's just a custom my mother brought over when she married my father—it might facilitate the fetish a little bit, but that’s not a consistent conscious choice, really, that would be ridiculous—a-also it’s just a health issue, I don’t wear heels all day by choice, it’s my goddamn stylists’ fault and, really, _anyone_ would need to let their feet breathe after those—those—” she shudders violently—“ _stilettos_."

Both Yuri's mind and face are blank with confusion. "I'm... glad... to hear that? Ma'am."

Theodora stares at her. "...You weren't going to ask, were you."

"No, ma'am. I swear I wasn't."

Theodora puts her face in her hands. "Usually I wait at least two sessions before making a fool of myself in front of a new sub. Dear lord." Before Yuri can respond, the queen straightens back up. "Restraints, how do you feel about those? I have cuffs, ropes, maybe a bit of tape."

Yuri nods vigorously. "Yes. Very much yes, ma'am. Gags are great too."

"Shibari?"

The word makes Yuri perk up instantly. "Oh! You can do that? That would be cool, I've never had sex in a complicated rope tie before, I fell asleep in one once at a party and no one realized until I started snoring—" The queen looks simultaneously surprised and amused, like someone being assaulted by a small, rambunctious puppy. Yuri stops. "...Ma'am."

Theodora smiles and sips her tea. "It's wonderful to know you're as excited about this as I am, guard."

_Don't blush don't blush-- ahh, fuck!_

"Just one last thing. Safewords. Traffic lights system: red means stop, yellow means slow down, green means go. You know this, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. And if you forget even that, just scream 'safeword' and I'll understand. Or flip me off."

Yuri's brows knit together. "Can I actually do that, ma'am? I know you said you wouldn't sue me over anything I did in this room, but..."

Theodora snorts and gives a breezy shrug. "Half of the Parliament does it every time I turn around. They think I don't know, but I do. I'll have twenty-six of them out by the next election cycle, give or take."

The voice of Yuri's high school history teacher pops into her head, chirping, _Our Parliament consists of exactly two hundred elected members._ Twenty-six out of two hundred, just a little over one-eighth. "Woah."

The queen smirks. "Got that right."

_How did I get this lucky?_

The queen stands up—Yuri hastily follows. Theodora folds her hands in front of her, all prim and proper, and the stranger-in-a-dive-bar feeling vanishes so quickly Yuri feels whiplash. “Guard, I’m glad this worked out so well,” she says. “But it’s getting late, and we both have a busy day tomorrow, not to mention it would be good to have some time pass before our next meeting—we’re both only human after all, and there could be a number of important points we’ve forgotten to touch on today. I suggest that between now and our next meeting, if you think of anything else I need to know, you write it down and keep it somewhere safe. I will do the same.”

Yuri tilts her head. “I believe I’ve heard those exact words before, ma’am. In a therapist’s office.”

The queen tips her head back and laughs—not in the same way she did on Sunday night, naked and sticky in rumpled sheets just after a bed-shaking orgasm. This is her modified polite-society laugh, turned up maybe two notches louder than the real deal, but still restrained. Yuri gets the distinct feeling she’ll be shut out of the queen’s bedroom and sneaking back to the barracks within the next five minutes.

The queen smiles, and even that she does serenely, with palpably growing detachment. “Submission and domination are their own forms of therapy, aren’t they? Stay where you are, guard, you need one last thing before you go.”

Yuri obeys. She watches the queen pad over to her bedside table and bring back two small, black objects; cellphones, older models with a flip-up screen and manual keypad.

“These are completely untraceable,” Theodora says, “and they have a deceptively secure lock system in place. Three wrong password inputs will destroy all data on both phones and alert me instantly, so be careful when you’re typing, guard.”

Yuri picks up one of the phones and studies it. Vaguely, she remembers begging her mother for a similarly clunky model at the age of six.

“Also, these aren’t for sexting. We’ll set up a regular schedule, but if circumstances cause any obstruction or deviance, we’ll use these to make sure we’re on the same page. The last thing I need is for you to be arrested as an attempted assassin because you walked in here and came face-to-face with a pack of skittish maids.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Yuri pockets the phone.

“Oh, and you can play Snake on it. I don’t suggest you do, but, just saying, it’s possible.”

Yuri desperately presses her lips together to suppress her laughter. “Yes, ma’am.”

Theodora picks up her own phone, holding it cupped in both hands like a handful of treasure, or a snowball, or a frog. “So, a schedule. There’s a bit of an unspoken rule that I don’t have functions on Sunday nights, so we should both be free then, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. Sunday works perfectly well.”

“Then Sunday it is, at least for now. You are dismissed, guard.”

Ah, there are the dreaded words. Yuri wonders if by the end of a month she’ll have developed a negative Pavlovian reaction to them. She bows, turns, and walks toward the door. She’s just stepping into a shoe when—

“—Yuri, wait.”

Yuri freezes. She straightens up and turns around. Theodora is still across the room, standing with a hand half-raised toward the guard, like she hasn’t quite processed how to end the gesture. Her lips are parted but for a few solid seconds, no words come out. Then the queen seems to notice her own hovering hand and quickly lowers it to clasp it in her other in that same demure pose from earlier. She clears her throat.

“Ah, guard. I know I just said that we should let some time pass, before—but, well, we’ve already had a trial run of sorts, so perhaps it wouldn’t be too errant to—keep the momentum going, in a way, just with something quick and light—”

There’s something growing in Yuri’s chest, disorganized and hard to suppress, burning hot like a brand and blooming like a lily with fingers gripping Yuri from the inside out. A wild hope that the queen is really saying what Yuri thinks she’s saying, that maybe Yuri’s fantasies today weren’t so unfounded after all… but she sticks with her training, keeps her face smoothly neutral and receptive, waiting for the queen to make her meaning clear on her own.

The queen is quickly stepping to her bedside, pulling a trunk out from underneath it. “—well, ‘light’ might be the wrong word. Perhaps the right one would be… ‘classic.’” And she stands, holding in her hands a long, black leather flogger, sleek and supple, with at least two dozen tails neatly draped over her hand.

Yuri’s skin lights itself on fire.

“Of course, it’s your choice whether you want to do this tonight. I’m not fully married to the idea myself, given that I only just thought of it. But… if you would like…”

Yuri steps away from the door and stands with her back straight, hands behind her back, and head bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she says.

There’s a pause. And then Yuri thinks she hears a spark of bubbling glee in the queen’s voice as she commands, “Strip.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo I FINALLY got around to continuing this... I was hung up on the fact that I wanted things to go in a certain sequence and there was a chapter I wanted to write before this, but honestly, y'all dont care if this is respectable-novel-quality, y'all just want the Good Shit, and I really really wanna write the Good Shit. So eyyyy!


	6. 2b. A Solid Beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> specific content warnings in end notes!

Yuri’s hands are already halfway down her buttons. She can’t peel her shirt off fast enough, like a lizard shedding useless skin, or her pants. She came prepared this time; instead of her annoying sports bra, she’s wearing a plain camisole. As she takes that off with triumphant efficiency, she thinks she hears the queen muffle a snort.

She comes to a halt just as she’s hooked her fingers into the waistband of her boxers and is about to push them down. _What_ _… am I doing?_ It’s the first moment of genuine confusion she’s had all night. Like things were moving so fast and she was moving right along with them, but she took one wrong step and fell off the tracks. She can’t even think to figure out what’s wrong, or if anything even is. It’s all just a blank question mark.

“...Guard?” the queen asks, softly.

Yuri straightens back up, slowly. She faces the queen and sees genuine concern on her face—concern, but not panic or anxiety. Yuri licks her lips.

“Ma’am. May I keep these on? Just for now. Please?”

The concern becomes a broad smile. “Of course, guard. Do you still want to continue?”

Yuri nods like a bobblehead on a dashboard. “Yes, ma’am. Still in the green.”

The queen gestures for Yuri to move toward her, and Yuri does. “On your knees.” Yuri sinks to the carpet and breathes out air she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

She’s not sure what the queen’s policy about eye contact is, so she keeps her head slightly bowed and watches the Theodora’s knees as she shrug off her robe, fur-trimmed hem giving way to shimmering silk. Her negligee is deep purple this time and _oh_ , does it suit her. Any color suits the queen, Yuri supposes. Anything rich and decadent and resplendently regal. Violet satin flutters out of sight as the queen begins to circle around Yuri, feet padding silently across the carpet.

“Hands behind your head, fingers laced together.”

Even with her underwear on, Yuri feels completely exposed in this position. She hears the minute rasp of leather against skin, the gentle fall of it against a thigh, and her skin thrums greedily for its kisses.

The queen returns to her place in front of Yuri and bends down—ooh, cleavage—and curls a finger under Yuri’s chin, tilting her face upward. The queen’s eyes are like twin black holes swallowing her up, calming her, unmaking her, pulling her apart and piecing her together in quick succession again and again.

The queen’s lips part. The eyes flicker downward, and the hand at Yuri’s chin follows. “I think I’ll start… with these,” Theodora murmurs, fingertips trailing down Yuri’s throat and collarbone to her breasts, then tweaking a nipple. The contact makes Yuri’s lashes flutter, her whole body tensing in an instant and a little gasp escaping her throat.

The queen rises again, holding the flogger’s handle in one hand and gathering its tresses in the other, rearing back. “Back straight, guard,” she says, and Yuri immediately corrects her lapsing posture, puffing out her chest a little as well. “Good girl.”

The first stroke doesn’t hit hard, but Yuri shivers nonetheless. It’s more a caress than a strike really, especially when the queen pulls the flogger away and a few tresses slide across Yuri’s hardened nipple. Another stroke from the opposite side, just as careful, just as tantalizing. Even through her growing pleasurable haze Yuri can see the way the queen’s eyes dart over her face and body, gauging her reactions, calculating the force of her own arm. Two more warm-up strokes and Yuri is panting, heat pulsing between her thighs. Two more than that and she’s getting restless, a pink flush under her skin and maddening tingles across it, making her squirm her hips maybe just an unnoticeable little inch—

The bite of the next stroke takes startles Yuri enough to spill a little cry from her lips. A blur of violet, and the queen’s hand is squeezing Yuri’s jaw tight and forcing her to look up into a face as beautiful and cold as that of a concrete angel.

“Getting impatient, are we?” the queen says. There’s more playful amusement than malice in her voice, like she fully expected this from her new sub. “Where’s your professional discipline, guard?

Yuri’s eyes dart away. “S-sorry, ma’am.”

“First lesson: If I tell you to assume a position, I expect you to stay in that position. I don’t need your petulant little signals to tell me I’m going too slowly—I assure you, I know _exactly_ what I’m doing. Learn to trust me, darling.”

 _Darling. The queen just called me_ _“darling.”_ The echo of the word in her ears renders Yuri speechless and starstruck. So when Theodora presses her soft, full lips into her forehead, she just about loses her mind. She isn’t even aware of time passing until leather tails _thwap!_ into her skin, making her grunt.

The flogging continues, each hit stinging more than the last, Yuri’s breasts growing redder and hotter and more sensitive and her pussy soaking her boxers. The pain itself really isn’t that bad, Yuri could take this in her sleep—it’s the shallow, unsatisfying pleasure that’s driving her up the wall, swelling like an itch across her entire nervous system, making her unsure of whether she wants to punch or hump something. It would be fine if she were allowed to squirm, but no, she’s meant to keep her position, even when her arms are warning her of an imminent ache and really, being still has never been so difficult. But, she supposes, that’s what Theodora intended from the start. It’s hardest not to move when the queen aims a few tails right at Yuri’s nipple—the bite, the itching sting that makes her crave the soothingly hot, wet suction of someone else’s mouth. Even thinking about that possibility makes her clit buzz and her breath quicken.

And then Theodora stops. She bends over again (ooh, cleavage, again) to inspect Yuri’s reddened flesh, pressing three fingers to the hot skin, circling a thumb over a nipple so that Yuri whines in the back of her throat and arches into the touch. “Well, look who’s all warmed up,” she says, tilting her head and smiling. Her eyes fall downward to the waistband of Yuri’s boxers. “Do you think you’re ready to take those off now, guard?”

Yuri nods furiously. The previous inexplicable apprehension is totally gone, replaced by heat and the overwhelming desire to get rid of any smothering tight fabric. A few pins and needles in her legs hinder her upright progress, and afterward she notices the carpet’s fiber pattern imprinted onto her shins, but it doesn’t matter because she’s peeling those damn boxers off her hips now and tossing them onto the pile of all her other clothes.

The queen stands with a hip to one side and her arms crossed, the flogger dangling from one hand: the very picture of leisurely authority. She appraises Yuri’s naked form bottom to top, then top to bottom. “Hands against the wall, and keep your legs open,” she says as her eyes linger on Yuri’s abs, her recently trimmed pubic hair, and the musculature of her thighs.

Yuri places her palms flat on the wallpaper and hopes she won’t leave sweat stains. She breathes out, grounding herself, making sure she’s got firm purchase on both the floor and the wall, rolling her shoulders a little to get the tension out. Of course, the tension comes right back when the queen presses up behind her, grips her firmly by the hips, and tugs backward. “Don’t arch your back too much,” the queen says, “but keep your ass out. Mmm, good.” Hands run up Yuri’s waist—she wants to shiver, wants to buck and roll her hips against the queen’s front—but the queen wants restraint, so she keeps herself steady and solid and breathes the pent-up energy out of herself.

The warmth behind her disappears, and there’s the sound of leather again. Yuri relaxes instinctively, muscles from shoulders to thighs pliant in invitation. Come to think of it, it’s been a while since she’s done this. She’s just been busy, what with all the hubbub of switching from army to royal guard, and before that she was still getting over her second domme, and she used to be pretty good at clearing her mind for things like this but possibly that’s a skill that needs constant upkeep—

_THWAP._

Yuri jumps more in shock than in pain… then the pain catches up. Ooh, god, that _stings_. Yuri deduces that the kid gloves are off, and the treatment her tits received is going to be a moonlight kiss on the beach compared to whatever hell her ass is about to go through.

_THWAP! THWAP!_

Yuri hisses quietly, finger curling into the wallpaper a little. The pain hasn’t quite penetrated the surface layer of skin to the muscle yet, so right now it’s all shallow fire, no real ache. The prickles accompanying the flames informs her of the pink stripes forming on her cheeks.

_THWAP. THWAP. THWAP._

The queen continues, each strike harder than the last, showing off some arm strength Yuri had no idea she possessed. The ripples of pain and heat from each lash mingle together, and Yuri can feel that heat running up and down her spine, awakening sensation between her legs, and she bites her lip in a futile effort to muffle her moans. The muscles in her arms and legs flex as she struggles to maintain her position, and her palms are damp against the wall.

_THWAP!_

Stripes across the backs of her thighs. Yuri’s legs spasm in surprise, the tensing of her muscles prolonging the pain, making it louder. She drops her head and releases a slow, shaking breath.

The queen pauses. A warm palm presses against the small of Yuri’s back, steadying her, getting her attention. “Color check?” the queen asks.

Yuri shuffles her feet, getting back in position, checking on her own state of body. Her ass hurts, her tits are tingling and her cunt is sopping wet. Everything else is still in tip-top shape. “Green, ma’am,” she says.

The hand on her back disappears. Theodora builds her momentum back up with some criss-crossing strikes against Yuri’s upper back—the marks could look a bit like angel wings, Yuri muses—and then returns to her ass. The brief respite seems to have renewed Yuri’s sensitivity, and though she obediently keeps her body still, she can’t help the breathy moans and whimpers that tumble out of her mouth in a steady stream. Lower blows against the backs of her thighs turn the moans to yelps, and the electric jolts to her clit are so direct she can’t resist a quick, subdued shudder.

She thinks she hears a giggle at that, but she can’t quite tell over the volume of her own moaning. The queen starts switching from thighs to ass to thighs seemingly at random; the surprise keeps Yuri on her figurative toes, and, god, the helplessness of it all is intoxicating, sending her into a spiral of empty thought. The inability to anticipate coming strikes forces her to focus on what information she does have, which are her original orders: hands against the wall, legs open, don’t move. All conscious thought goes into smoothing out the spasms and twitches in her legs, keeping them from crawling up to her hips and making her writhe the way she really wants to. Because she’s so, so wet… her hot, swollen labia are literally throbbing with every lash, her little clit buzzing in a restless demand for contact—contact that it unexpectedly receives as Theodora snaps the flogger’s leather tails right up between Yuri’s legs.

Yuri’s voice goes higher than she thought was possible, and she hops up onto her toes a good two seconds before remembering it’s against orders. Getting back into position is the ordeal of a lifetime; the rough stinging of her lips is almost a caress, teasing and distracting her as she fights to remember where her hands and feet were supposed to go. She has to dig the balls of her feet into the carpet and scoot them apart inch by inch, battling the urge to snap her thighs together like magnets and try to gain some relief that way.

And the whole time, Theodora does nothing. It doesn’t even occur to Yuri that she hasn’t received another lash until she’s panting and shaking back in position, legs tense as steel cables but arms limp and threatening to buckle. She almost turns her head to look, but catches herself. Instead she swallows to wet her dry throat, and says hoarsely, “M-ma’am?”

There’s a soft _thump_ as the flogger falls to the carpet, and the queen’s arms encircle Yuri’s hips with a snaking grace. “You just make it so difficult to keep my hands off of you,” she says, breathlessly. Her fingertips run up the pattern of Yuri’s abs; she really likes those, Yuri notes. They wander further upward to rub circles over Yuri’s aching breasts, brushing ever so briefly against her peaked nipples and reviving a warm sting in those too. Then they slide back to grip Yuri’s waist, then trace patterns over her itching shoulder blades, then flutter down to her ass. They tickle a bit, just because they’re so small. As the queen squeezes with what’s no doubt a good portion of her strength, Yuri has to suppress a giggle—but the sound morphs into a gasp when cruel nails rake up the sides of her hips. She tenses as those nails glide over the fronts, then insides of her thighs.

The movement stops. “…Oh?” the queen says. She makes a stirring motion with a finger against Yuri’s thigh, and, with a flush of embarrassment, Yuri realizes she’s collecting a string of sticky fluid. The queen’s fingers slide even further up the wet trail, and Yuri trembles with anticipation. When the Theodora rubs directly over the source, Yuri’s mind goes blank and she chokes on her own breath.

The queen presses a soft cheek against Yuri’s shoulder blade. Her sigh is light and dreamy. “Beg, darling,” she murmurs.

The words tumble from Yuri’s mouth—“Please ma’am, please touch me, I need to— _want_ to come, please your hand feels so good, it feels so good ma’am please—”

The warmth against Yuri’s back vanishes. She trembles, forlorn, for a second. And then her skin is barraged with leather, the blows so hard and fast that the ones across her back and ass and thighs blur together in a heavy haze. A keening cry escapes her lips. Molten heat runs between her thighs. Then the pain is abruptly replaced by the press of cool satin, ragged breaths against her spine, hands pawing across her stomach and thighs, looking for—

Yes, oh god _yes_ , the queen’s fingers are so soft and so good against her clit, first trapping it between two digits and squeezing, then pulling back the hood with one hand to glide the other’s fingers wetly across the sensitive underside—Yuri cries out, knees knocking together, hips stuttering.

“We need to work on your discipline,” the queen pants against Yuri’s back. “But right now—just for now—come for me, guard—”

Quick, persistent strokes with three fingers, and Yuri _melts_. Her vision flickers as her eyes roll into the back of her head, her posture falling apart as she clings to the wall with her cheek and forearms, trying so hard not to drool on the wallpaper but oh god, she’s going to come, she’s going to come Theodora’s going to make her come—

It’s like being hit by lightning. Her whole body jerks and her legs crumple, her head soaring as her body starts to fall. She remembers at the last second not to gouge the wall with her nails—and she hits the carpeted floor, knees-first, then tumbles onto her side. She stays there, gasping, the muscles in her stomach still jumping with aftershocks of pleasure.

Warm hands with wet fingertips cup Yuri’s cheeks. They tug at her impatiently, urging her to flip over onto her hands and knees. Yuri’s body is as pliant as her mind, and she lets herself be rearranged without a fuss. The hands pet her rewardingly, and then guide her face directly into the queen’s drenched folds.

Maybe it’s the hyper-energy from the orgasm, or maybe Yuri’s just become hopelessly addicted to the taste of Theodora’s cunt—all the clever tricks she could use are evacuated from her mind, and all she can think to do is to lick with increasingly frantic, sloppy strokes. After all, she is a trained markswoman, and Theodora’s swollen clit is a _remarkable_ target. Hands fist into Yuri’s hair and pull tight as the queen hooks her legs over Yuri’s shoulders, grinding shamelessly against Yuri’s face. She’s whispering something with harsh syllables, like a chant; it sounds vaguely like instructions, but the usual “ _harder faster right there_ ” and “ _don_ _’t stop keep going”_ are interlaced with “ _oh fuck shitting hell_ ” and _“son of a big-titted whore_ ” and expletives in languages Yuri can’t even identify. Then the queen tenses everywhere with a final “Oh, _motherFUCK—_ _”_ Her heels dig into Yuri’s back hard enough to press her flat against the floor, and there’s painful pressure in her ears from being sealed shut by the queen’s thighs. Theodora’s entire body spasms, once, twice—a pause, then three more times—and her legs go slack, her feet twitching as they slip off of Yuri’s abused back.

Yuri doesn’t intend to use the queen’s thigh as a pillow, but she’s too tired to lift her head off of it. It’s nice and soft and only a bit sweaty. She listens to the queen’s labored breathing, watches the bunched satin over her stomach rise and fall with the rhythm. Knows that it can’t last, yet wants it to anyway. Feels the dread in her stomach rise as the seconds tick by. Waits for the words that’ll send her on her way.

But the dismissal never comes. Yuri shifts her head to get a look at Theodora’s face; her eyes are closed, lashes flickering like butterfly wings against her soft brown cheeks, lips set in a gentle part that exposes the slightest bit of tooth. Yuri thinks about staying quiet and not disturbing her. But, unavoidably, she hears herself say, “Your Majesty?”

The queen’s eyes snap open. She blinks at the ceiling with almost comical alertness, as though trying to convince anyone watching that she was conscious the whole time. “Hmm?”

“Am I dismissed, ma’am?”

There’s a hoarse but controlled timber in the queen’s voice. “Ah. Yes, of course. Absolutely.”

Yuri takes a deep breath and clambers to her feet, staying low until she’s sure her surroundings have stopped tilting. Theodora is still on the floor with hands folded primly over her chest, as though she isn’t totally naked from the waist down. Yuri offers her a hand; Theodora takes it and rises ever-so-daintily from the carpet. The hem of her negligee drapes smoothly down past her hips as though by command, and once again Yuri marvels at the queen’s… queenliness.

Leaving is a little less awkward this time. As Yuri collects her clothes, Theodora sits at an enormous dresser against the wall and brushes her hair with an almost eerie serenity. Just as Yuri is buttoning her shirt and padding across the floor for her shoes, the queen’s voice rings out.

“Sunday, guard.”

Yuri looks toward the dresser and at first sees only rich, springing brunet curls—and then her eyes are met by the queen’s coal-hot irises reflected in the mirror. The brush is stilled at her shoulder, the rest of her face hidden behind its broad wooden back.

Yuri bobs her head. “Sunday, Your Majesty,” she confirms. She pauses. Then she folds an arm over her torso and dips into a bow, more slowly and elegantly than she did at the end of her last visit. “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, guard.” The queen’s gaze never wavers. Not until Yuri opens the door, steps through, and gently pushes it shut.

As Yuri falls asleep in the palace barracks, she still sees that gaze projected behind her eyelids. _Sunday_ , she whispers to herself. _On Sunday, you can worship again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flogging, a quick handy, and then cunnilingus, yummm

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten this far and like what you see, I'm @delphiiwrites on tumblr and @ahn_writing on twitter, come hang with me! :D


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